Glory Days

by Irene Peterson

  “Of course not. Carly is delightful company.” She shot him a glare that tweaked his conscience just a little. “Go ahead and do what you have to do. We like having Carly around.”

  They started off in the direction of the cashiers, but John called them back. “I like having her around. Don’t think I don’t.”

  Liz glanced over her shoulder, chin up, lips set in a tight line. Her look told him she didn’t believe one word he’d said.

  Six-pack in hand, John stopped in front of the newsstand and plunked it down in front of Curtis. The black man snaked out his hand and slipped the beer behind the counter. Without a word, John raised an eyebrow in question and Curtis shook his head. John shrugged and walked away.

  He opened the door to his office and, startled, nearly shut the door to check to see if his name was still stenciled outside. Bags and bags filled the space, all marked with names of shops he’d never step foot inside. Ah, he remembered.

  He’d given Carly money to go shopping for clothes for herself.

  Looked as if she’d bought out the mall.

  “Shee-it.” He waded through the piles, deposited his brown bag of groceries on the minute counter in the kitchen and put the pint bottle of bourbon in a cabinet over the sink.

  Hunger pangs squished through his gut.

  Nothing would blur what had happened in the nursing home, but food might put him in a better mood.

  John stepped out of the apartment and onto the small porch that served as a fire escape and grill platform. Once the grill heated up, he’d throw on the steak, but in the meantime, he put a potato into the microwave and cut the recently purchased head of lettuce in quarters. The February air still had a chill to it, but before long the welcome heat of summer would bring him outside most evenings. Alone, looking over the back end of Asbury Park.

  This was no life.

  A commotion sounded below as he stepped back inside. Carly and Liz must have returned from the store. John looked at his bare feet and stepped back into his deck shoes, preparing himself for company. It didn’t take long for footsteps to sound on the stairs. More than one set. Oh, man. Liz was coming up with the kid.

  Selflessly, he tossed two more potatoes in the microwave.

  Chapter 12

  A guilty furrow marred her brow as she hurried to pick up the bags of clothing. Liz kept reassuring her that if he’d given her the money, he’d meant it was okay to spend. But the kid didn’t lighten up.

  From the recesses of the kitchen John watched her scramble around the office space that was also his living room and currently served as her bedroom. She moved efficiently and with a dancer’s grace. Had the nuns provided her with ballet lessons? Another question to ask the Mother Superior.

  He had to put Carly out of her misery.

  “I hope you got enough clothing to last awhile.” Strolling into the room, he tried to appear nonchalant and Cary Grantish.

  Carly stopped moving, clutched five bags to her chest and looked frightened. Not the effect he was going for.

  “It’s my fault,” said Liz.

  “I’m sorry!” Carly blurted out at the same time.

  John looked from one to the other. “Wait a minute. It’s okay. I’m not angry and there’s nothing for anyone to apologize for. You need clothes for school and hanging out. Liz helped you pick them out and I’m sure she is a woman of good taste. Not one to waste money on frivolous things.”

  “We went a little overboard,” Carly explained.

  “I thought she needed plenty of everything, since she doesn’t have much at all,” continued Liz.

  He put the barbeque tongs he’d been gesturing with down at his side. “Look, did you spend it all?”

  Carly’s head dipped, her eyes searching the floor. He noticed that Liz looked him straight in the eye.

  “Yes.”

  Silence ensued. He let it drag on more than a few heartbeats before saying, “Good. That’s good. A girl needs clothes.”

  The kid’s head shot up. Her bright blue eyes shone with relief and . . . something else. Gratitude? He felt like such a shit for making her worry.

  “Thank you.” She looked as if she wanted to move but remained where she was, hands still clutching those bags.

  “I’d like to see what you bought, though. I don’t know much about fashion . . . but I don’t want you going to Mary Immaculate’s looking scroungy.”

  “Oh,” Liz came around from the doorway to stand in front of him, “we got her the proper uniform, but we also got her some outfits for weekends and after school. Good enough for a date.”

  He hadn’t thought about Carly dating.

  He’d barely thought about her all day, but he certainly had not thought about the kid going out with a boy somewhere. Something around his chest squeezed air from his lungs, forcing him to inhale deeply.

  “Oh. Good. That’s good.”

  Liz’s eyes narrowed.

  John cleared his throat. “Liz, you were right about the size of that steak. There’s plenty of meat for an army. I was just going to put it on the grill. Would you care to join Carly and me for some supper?”

  He caught the bemused flicker in her eyes before she hid it. It didn’t take her long to answer.

  “Do you have anything to go with all that cow?”

  He laughed. She never gave him an inch. He liked that about her.

  “Yes, I’ll have you know I have lettuce and baked potatoes.”

  “I . . . ,” she glanced over to Carly who shot back a pleading look, “I’d love to.”

  What had he just done?

  He couldn’t remember ever cooking for a woman before. Liz was a great cook. For that matter, so was Carly. The only thing he knew how to cook that didn’t come in a box was steak or pork chops. Baked potatoes? Did he even have butter? A quick mental inventory led to the refrigerator. The newly purchased sour cream would have to do. No butter. No salad dressing but tucked in the back he found ajar of mayonnaise.

  The grill sizzled as he put the slab of beef on it. Instant gratification came as the smell reached his nostrils. He stood, tongs in hand, wondering what the hell had come over him . . . asking Liz to stay for dinner. And the clothes. He’d meant it; he wanted Carly to be dressed properly for Monday. How much money had he given them? Where the hell was she going to stash all those clothes?

  There was a large closet he used for storage off the office. He’d filled it with crap when he moved in and hadn’t opened the door since. Maybe there was room there. At one time, Flo had said that a few tenants had used the closet as a small bedroom. For an infant, maybe. He’d figure something out. Maybe the kid wouldn’t be around long, anyway. This was temporary. Temporary, until he found out who her father was.

  Two names left.

  The two biggest assholes he’d ever met.

  Yeah, right.

  Something was bothering John. Liz didn’t know him very well, but she could tell that something other than her presence was forcing him to behave the way he was. What was going on?

  She saw Carly watching him, too, with the intent probing eye only a teenager could possess. The three of them walked around each other like cats on ice. He laughed, the deep sound resonating through his chest, but not quite coming out happy. Carly withdrew from conversation, leaving Liz to come up with idle words that had neither depth nor substance. Certainly not Virginia Woolf, but not what she’d come to expect from him. She’d watched him long enough, now, to figure out when he was being himself. And now was not one of those times.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have accepted his invitation. Whatever was going on was making her testy. She kept moving around the tiny kitchen, watching John on the deck, watching how he moved, almost as if she were waiting for him to do something stupid.

  Maybe she was.

  He had a way of moving few big men were capable of exhibiting. His long, lean lines, the way he held himself told her he wasn’t afraid of anything and nothing could hold him back if he really wanted to accomplis
h something. The set of his jaw as he played with the tongs . . . even that told her something of his determination. But tonight there was an emptiness in his eyes. That obnoxious little spark of the devil just wasn’t there.

  And Carly had withdrawn from the conversation, limited as it was, to sit at the desk in the office, tapping the eraser end of a pencil against her thigh. Poor kid.

  She tried so hard to be perfect.

  “You okay?” Liz asked.

  Carly yawned then put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  Liz laughed. “That’s okay. You must be tired out from all that shopping.”

  The kid nodded. “I didn’t really think we’d bought so much . . . spent so much money.”

  Liz bent closer and put her hand on Carly’s shoulder. “Look, he said it was fine, and I believe him. Are you afraid he’s angry? Is that why you’re so quiet?”

  With a heave of her shoulders, Carly paused, then said, “I don’t know what to think. I think something’s wrong, but maybe it’s not me. Don’t you think he’s acting funny?”

  “Eh. You can never really tell with guys. And I don’t think you ought to waste any of your time worrying about it. If it isn’t something you’ve done to bug him, it could be something totally unrelated to anything. Maybe he got a parking ticket. Maybe he’s being audited by the IRS. Maybe he has a difficult case he’s working on.”

  “Yeah,” Carly whispered so softly Liz could barely make out the words. “Mine.”

  “Hey, ladies, are you hungry?”

  John appeared before them, tongs waving, a wicked little smile playing about his lips.

  “I think we’re both pretty hungry. Is it ready?”

  John stepped back out on the deck. She heard the clang of metal and a string of swear words.

  Liz hurried to the deck door. John stood in front of the grill, cussing creatively.

  Beside her, Carly tittered.

  “Dammit! Dammit to hell! Sonovabitch!”

  Liz tamped down laughter. “What’s wrong?”

  John slammed down the lid of the grill. The noise echoed from the building behind them.

  “Ran out of propane. The f . . . darn steak isn’t done.”

  Liz put her hand up to her mouth, coughed into it and lowered it to her side. “I’ll start up the broiler in here.”

  He stopped, looking as if the idea had never occurred to him. Then he favored her with another of those beaming smiles of his.

  “Excellent idea! What would we men do without you ladies?”

  At least the banter was back. Liz went to the stove and checked the oven, then fired up the broiler.

  “Where’s the aluminum foil?”

  Carly located it and placed it in his outstretched hand. John lined the broiling pan with the silvery stuff. She stepped aside while John placed the half-cooked steak on the pan and opened the door for him to put the pan inside.

  Liz found it interesting that the three of them worked together. Almost in a kind of rhythm.

  But the moment was brief.

  “Hey, kid. Carly. Wake up. I have to talk to you. You can go right back to sleep.”

  He bent down and shook her shoulder.

  The kid groaned and turned her face into the pillow.

  John stood. “It won’t work. Believe me, I know. My voice will ring in your brain for the next fifteen minutes, and you’ll wake up all cranky and cuss me out. If you just listen to me now, you stand a good chance of going back to sleep.”

  The pillow sufficiently muffled Carly’s words, but he was sure he wouldn’t really have wanted to hear them anyway.

  “I’m up.” She propped herself up on one elbow.

  Hair by Mixmaster. He remembered his sisters looking that way.

  “I have to work. I’ll probably be gone all day, maybe into the evening.”

  She yawned in his face, scrubbed her knuckles across her eyes. “Uh-huh. Okay.”

  A tinge of annoyance whispered through him. He was not used to explaining his movements to anyone.

  “You might want to see if you can make some room in that closet over there. It’s packed with my stuff, but I think if you straightened it up, there might be enough room to hang up all your new clothes.”

  She still didn’t look fully awake. He knew how she felt. These early morning jobs never caught him at his best.

  “Liz said she had some cleaning to do this morning. If you get hungry, you can go downstairs and mooch food off Flo. You hardly ate anything last night.”

  Anger flickered in Carly’s eyes. He figured it was just teenaged reaction to feeling spied upon.

  “Wasn’t hungry.”

  “Well, if you get hungry, go downstairs. I gotta get going. And don’t forget, tomorrow we’re going to my parents’ house.”

  She yawned again, this time covering her mouth with her free hand. “Yessir. I remember.”

  “Lock the door after me.”

  She nodded.

  “Did you get notebooks and pencils and stuff?”

  “Yeah. They’re in one of the bags.”

  “I’ll be back late, but I’ll be back.”

  “Okay.”

  “Stay out of my room.”

  The anger flickered once again.

  “You can use the computer, I took off the password this morning.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Go already!” she snapped.

  He paused, about to snap back at her, then thought better of it. Teenage kid was entitled to have emotions.

  “I’m going.”

  He nearly made it to the door when she called after him. “What did I do wrong last night?”

  “Huh?”

  He walked back to the fold out bed. “What?”

  She sat up, pulling the sheet over her. “I asked you what I did last night that was wrong.”

  He sat on the edge of the mattress, ran his hand through his hair. What did she want him to say?

  “Nothing. I just had a bad day yesterday.” He looked at her eyes, trying to read in them the reason for her question.

  “It wasn’t me or the clothes?”

  “No. I told you that was okay. Sheesh, you’re so sensi-tive. Liz knew it was all right. Why . . . did I say or do anything that made you think I was angry with you?”

  Carly nodded. “Let’s drop it.”

  “Did I?”

  The kid looked him in the eye, piercing his very soul with her reply.

  “Yes. Are you looking for my father?”

  He stood, afraid the kid would read something in his eyes he didn’t want her to see just yet. His voice came out harsher than he intended. “Look, kid, I don’t have time for this. I have to work. And I don’t have to explain myself to you or anybody else.”

  Her face fell, a look so hurt, so pained, it couldn’t have been worse if he had struck her.

  Chapter 13

  John came down the stairs with a lightness in his step that definitely caught Liz’s attention. The idiot. Peering around the corner into the kitchen, he beamed her a smile while she remained leaning against the counter, coffee mug gripped tightly in her hand.

  “Morning!”

  Liz screwed up her face in reply. Likeable idiot.

  “You look cute early in the morning.”

  “Ugh.”

  He slid onto a stool and grabbed the sugar dispenser.

  She threw him a glare. “You usually get your own coffee,” she noted. “And you’re decidedly chipper. What gives?” Her hand automatically went to the coffee machine and poured him a cup. Pavlovian. At least she wasn’t drooling, although John did look decidedly tasty in nice, neat casual clothes. He might clean up real nice if given the opportunity. Not that looks mattered all that much, she knew. But he sure had them. She sighed then realized what she’d done.

  To cover it, she ventured, “Going to mass?”

  He snorted a laugh. “Not me. I’m taking Carly to my parents’ house for Sunday din
ner and plan to do a little investigating while I’m there.”

  This caught her attention. She’d been dying to find out how the kid’s case was coming along. “You’re trying to find Carly’s father? Following up a lead? That’s sort of what I gathered from Carly.”

  John resettled himself on the stool. “Maybe. Kinda. I’m not really sure, but I’m trying. She doesn’t think I’m working very hard, though, and I do have other cases.”

  “You knew her mother?”

  “That’s still not a fact, but I think so. Look, Carly doesn’t know any of this, that’s why she thinks I haven’t been looking. And I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell her what I’ve already found out. Some of it isn’t exactly glamorous. It isn’t even nice. She’s a good kid and she hasn’t had it easy in her sixteen years on earth. It is my intention to find her father, or any relatives there might be, and get them together somehow. But I don’t want to get her hopes up unnecessarily. There may not be any relatives. I haven’t gotten that far.”

  She understood all too well. “I lost both my parents when I was in the ninth grade. That’s when I came to live with my grandmother during the summer. The rest of the year I spent in boarding school, which was okay, but I would rather have been here with Gram. So I know how important it is to have family. Carly needs a nice family.”

  “I agree.”

  “If you find her father and he’s a . . . I don’t know . . . a creep. What will you do?”

  John rubbed his hand over his face.

  “Dunno. I suppose I have to hand her over to her father. It’s only right.”

  The horror of his words seeped through Liz’s entire body. Just when she was starting to think he might just be one of those good guys her grandmother claimed existed, he said something so stupid she wanted to kick him. Before she could get the angry reply out of her mouth, though, he backed off.

  “Hey, wait. Don’t go jumping on me! I haven’t found her father, just some clues, some hints, some half remembered names. I haven’t found anything for sure. And I like the kid. I wouldn’t want her to go into something worse than she’s already had, but I do not know what will happen. I do know she’s got to go somewhere. She can’t stay on my sofa forever.”